Holding onto Dreams
by Sheerol
Summary: Dreams and reality collide in this story of an elderly man, considered crazy by others, as he talks about his adventures in a land of talking anthropomorphic animals. Is this real or all in his head?


This is my first story for and I'm kind of worried, but I hope you like it! If there's any problems with it, or if you have any constructive criticism, feel free to post, I'm not going to bark at you if you don't like my story. If you do like it, a nice review is also welcomed but not necessary.  
The next part will be up, of course, when I finish writing it. I don't care so much if this doesn't get any views or comments, as it's just to get me back into writing. I have all summer to finish this off before I have to go back to college, so expect to see more soon!

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"Can we go see Grandpa today?" chimed the voice of a young boy, no older than six or seven, breaking the silence of the near empty household as he scurried down the stairs.

The only other person around the house was his mother, a woman in her early thirties, with a basket of clothes held in her arms.

"We can head up once I've put these away. Get your shoes on ready for when I'm down."

The boy pulled a pair of Velcro strapped trainers out of a box, placing his tiny feet inside them, fastening the straps as his mother came down the stairs.

Soon after, the two headed outside into the suburban neighbourhood, the heat of the sun warming their exposed faces.

"I should've really put some sun cream on you before we headed out. We both know how easily you burn." The child's mother said to him, concerned.

"No, no, Grandpa's home is just around the corner, I'll be okay, I promise." He replied, eager to get off.

"If you say so." The woman sighed and held her hand out to the young boy, who quickly grabbed it as if he felt unprotected without the grasp of her fingers.

As the mother and child pair continued to stroll along the quiet neighbourhood, the mother asked the boy a question.

"Why do you ask to see Grandpa so much? Wouldn't you rather speak to your friends from school?"

The boy loosened the tight grip he had to his mother's hand and stopped dead in his tracks. When his mother turned around to ask what he was doing, the boy looked down and mumbled under his breath whilst fiddling with his fingers: "Grandpa is my only friend. The kids at school don't like me."

With a hint of guilt in her eyes, the mother responded "But I'm your friend, and I'm sure your dad is."

"But dad isn't your friend any more, is he? That's why he doesn't live with us now, right?" The boy was still staring down at the cement covered road, waiting for the answers to his difficult questions.

"Look, we'll talk about this afterwards. Right now, we're going to see Grandpa, and he can tell you his stories about wise owls and sly foxes, or whatever you two talk about." She began to get frustrated with the boy, tugging his arm to get him moving, which did eventually get him to co-operate.

Once at the Elderly home, the boy's mother was stopped by one of the nursing staff.

"Do you mind if we have a word?" She spoke in a quiet voice, as to not startle the other residents, "On your own, I mean." She looked at the young boy for a second, then back to his mother.

"Sure, but I'll have to take-" The mother was interrupted by the nurse who already predicted her words.

"It's fine; I'll get another member of staff to escort him to his grandfather's room."

After the woman took the boy out of sight, the nurse led the mother into her office.

"There are concerns for your father, Mr. Shelton, as he appears to have issues with his mental health." The nurse told the other woman, trying to be as solemn as possible. "His transition to the home has been fine so far, and he seems to be copying, but there has been 'worries for the man's sanity' as one resident bluntly put. He's been telling people about adventures he's had on some tropical island with talking animals. It's nothing to be heavily concerned about, but it's possible that he has trouble distinguishing these visions or dreams from reality."

"Oh no, it's nothing. He's been like this as long as I've been alive. I'd just call it an overactive imagination." The child's mother responded. "But it was particularly bad after my mother died."

"In that case, have you ever considered it a form of escapism in attempt to block out life's miseries?" The nurse pondered.

The Mother wasn't sure of the best way to reply to this, even though she knew there was at least a hint of truth behind the statement. "Can I just go see him already?"

"Sure thing," Agreed the nurse, leading the mother out of the room. "But, Ms. Shelton, I just thought it was worth mentioning. Sorry if I upset you in any way."

The mother, Ms. Shelton, didn't give the nurse a response, but continued to follow her down the corridor of the unusual scented building.

"Marie!" She heard a raspy old voice from around the corner shout in glee. It was her father, smiling from cheek to cheek. "You know, you two are the only people who come visit me anymore."

"Well, we are pretty much your only family." She attempted a smile, which quickly turned back into a frown.

"Grandpa, Grandpa, tell me the story of when you sailed through the wild sea to get to the tropical island!" His grandson asked excitedly, whilst kneeling on the floor.

"I certainly will, Sam, my boy!" The elderly man exclaimed.

After the stories of Grandpa's supposed adventures had finished, it was time for the parent and child pair to head back home.

On the way there, Ms. Shelton asked her son another question, considering the possibility of upsetting the boy this time.

"You do realise Grandpa never did any of the things he tells you about, right?"

"He totally did," The boy thought for a second. "I mean, why would he lie to me?"

"He's not lying, it's just that... he's old and his mind works differently, so he thinks these things have happened. They're not real." She tried to put this statement to the boy as lightly as she could.

"Well, I believe him."

Meanwhile, at the elderly home, the birds were singing, the bees were buzzing and the weather couldn't be better. That's all fine and dandy for those outside, like the mother and son, but when you're cooped up inside on this beautiful day like Mr Shelton is, it seems wasted.

The elderly man sat at his desk, scribbling down ideas on to a page. He was an imaginative man, but not much of a writer. He didn't want to be an author anyway; he just needed something to pass the time. With the day seeming to take an eternity, he should do something constructive, so he thought.

"Mortimer, put your pen down and stamp up, I've got something to ask of you." A voice spoke as if it was coming from inside the room.

Surely enough, the man stood up out his chair and began scanning the room.

"Who goes there? And where are you?" He spoke in slight confusion.

"Let's just say I'm a genie. I can make all of your dreams come true. You can go to your happy place forever if you so wish. I'll be there also, and I'll grant you any wish you desire." The voice explained to the senile man.

"I don't know who you are or whether I should trust you but... My happy place? I—Okay." The elderly man responded, still sceptical of the situation.

"All you have to do is close your eyes and jump. Trust me, Mortimer."

"I'm not much of a jumper, but here goes nothing." And so he did.


End file.
